There's A Thin Line Between Love & Hate
by PantherPatronus
Summary: It's the Trio's '8th year' at Hogwarts, and everyone is trying to rebuild their lives after the war. Amends are made, new friendships formed, & enemies forgiven. But can an unlikely romance blossom between two people who have hated each other from the start? Slight AU, mostly canon. Everyone who died before & during the war is still dead except Sirius & Remus. HP/DM, slight SB/RL
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Only three quarters of the people in Harry's classes came back to re-do their 7th year, or the '8th year', as the students referred to it. Hermione convinced Ron and Harry, among others, it was essential to complete their learning, so both unwillingly went back to Hogwarts. Almost all of the Ravenclaw's, and a fairly equal number of Hufflepuff's, Slytherin's, and Gryffindor's returned. It was hard to work out classes, for the Professors already had the usual 7 years of classes to teach, but they managed, each taking classes when they had free time.  
One person in particular who came back caused the trio surprise. Draco Malfoy was reserved, withdrawn, and almost always alone. With the death of Crabbe, and Goyle not returning to school, Pansy Parkinson and the Greengrass sisters, Daphne and Astoria, were the only close friends he had left. But, Harry noticed, he spent little time with them. Wondering what was going on, but not game enough to ask, left Harry lacking concentration in everything he did.  
Wanting a break from the thoughts in his head, one afternoon, a month after school started again, Harry took his broom and snitch and headed towards the Quidditch pitch. He had asked when all of the teams were practicing, and knew the pitch would be empty. Strolling out into the middle of the deserted pitch, Harry let the snitch go, waited ten seconds, then kicked off and began the chase.  
After an hour, Harry was catching the snitch in less then ten seconds every time he let it go, the little golden ball having all of his attention. Little did he know, he was occupying someone else's attention.  
Draco Malfoy had been in the boys changing rooms when Harry arrived at the pitch, and had snuck into the stands to watch the raven-haired beauty. Hiding behind a flapping Slytherin banner, Draco admired the way fluid way Harry moved; his intricate twists and turns, tight spinning barrels into the air, and sharp deadly dives so close to the ground it made the blondes heart skip a beat.  
It had been in fourth year, when Harry had almost been killed in the Tri-Wizard tournament, that Draco had realised his feelings for Harry. Sure, he had almost died every year, but seeing Harry beaten up and bloody, laying over Cedric's dead body, Draco had a horrifying thought: "What if it was Cedric who came back, crying over Harry's dead body?"  
The thought stuck fear into Draco's cold heart, and shattered it. He knew then that his rivalry with Harry was nothing more then an pathetic attempt to talk to him. Draco was sure Harry hated him - how could he not? The two's rivalry had been going on ever since the day they met at Madam Malkin's and Draco's pride had been shattered. That's really what the whole thing started over, Draco had realised; his own pride was the cause of the riff the two had carried ever since they met. Sure, they had barely spoken this year, and their fights had become less frequent, but Draco was determined to make amends with Harry. It was difficult, however, when he was always with Ron, Hermione or, worst of all, Ginny. While the two had broken up when Harry went looking for Horcruxes, they still remained very close friends. Draco wasn't sure if the two had gotten back together, but it was clear Ron and Hermione had.  
Draco, to lost in his own thoughts to notice the banner hiding him had snagged, was left fully exposed on the stands, and it didn't take long for Harry to spot the blonde mop of hair in the bland brown stands. Harry caught the snitch that was flying just above his head, pocketed it, and flew over until he was hovering mere feet away from Draco.  
"What are you doing here Malfoy?" Harry's question was simply that - a question - with no trace of malice or anger whatsoever. A question someone would ask a friend or acquaintance, and not laced with any hint of the hidden resentment you would hear if talking someone who you hated.  
Harry's voice snapped the blonde out of his thoughts, and, out of habit, Draco's mouth turned up into a disdainful sneer. He held up his broom, which he had been clutching ever since leaving the changing rooms.  
"I was about to do some flying, but apparently the pitch is occupied." Draco turned, and was about to walk away, when Harry spoke again.  
"We can practice together Draco. I know you got your Seeker position back on the Quidditch team - I did as well."  
"Doesn't that mean we shouldn't practice together?" Draco said, his tone clearly implying Harry was an idiot.  
"I don't see why not. Sure, we're on opposing teams, but I only play for fun. The competition side doesn't appeal to me anymore. And I don't think it does to you either."  
"How would you know what appeals to me Potter?" Draco sneered.  
Harry let out a loud sigh and flew over to the bench Draco was standing on, dismounting and sitting next to the blonde's feet.  
"I'm sick of fighting with you Draco," he said after a minute of silence.  
Draco sat down, placing his broom at his feet as Harry had done.  
"Oh thank Merlin. So I am." He said, relieved. Harry looked over, startled.  
"Really?"  
"I never wanted to fight with you Harry. It was my pride that got in the way of us becoming friends. When you didn't choose me, that day in Madam Malkin's, I was hurt. And everything I have said and done since then was just me trying to mend my pride. I'm sorry, Harry." Draco looked right into those fiery emerald eyes as he was speaking, and Harry could tell his apology was sincere.  
"I never wanted to fight either. But considering everything else I had to deal with, I think out petty rivalry was just a way for me to release all of the anger and frustration I was feeling over the mess my had become."  
"Believe it or not, I know how that feels." Draco sighed.  
Harry looked over to see Draco fiddling with a loose thread on his robe, something he had been doing ever since school started again. Harry had assumed he done it when he was nervous or anxious, but couldn't work out why he would be either while talking to him.  
"Are you nervous Draco?"  
"Uhh.." Draco's hesitance and inability to respond was answer enough for Harry.  
"Draco, what possible reason could you have to be nervous around me?"  
"If only you knew," he mumbled under his breath. Harry heard, and turned his quizzical eyes to Draco, but the blonde had dropped his head, and focused on the ground.  
"If only I knew what?" Harry asked. When the blonde didn't answer, Harry latched a hand around Draco's wrist, making the blonde turn surprised eyes to the boy beside him. "If only I knew what, Draco?" he asked again.  
Draco looked into Harry's beautiful eyes, and all the fight left him. The walls he had spent so long building crumbled with one look into those deep emerald pools, and Draco's shoulders slumped as he let out a defeated sigh. Draco returned his eyes to the ground, but let his wrist stay securely in Harry's hand.  
"If only you knew that I never hated you. In fact, it's the complete opposite. I like you Harry. A lot."  
Harry's grip on Draco's wrist slacked with his surprise. Seeing the disbelieving look on the brunettes face, Draco yanked his arm out of Harry's hand and grabbed his broom, mounting it an kicking off. He was in the air and flying away before Harry had even realised what was going on. He stared at Draco, watching his figure zooming away towards the castle. Harry mounted his own broom and flew off after the blonde, the two playing an unintentional game of cat-and-mouse in and around the towers and turrets of the castle.  
Harry was just about to give up, for it seemed Draco was simply flying in circles, when the blonde stopped by an open window in a small tower above the dungeons. He expertly maneuvered his broom along side the window, and sliding off onto the sill. He grabbed his broom before it fell to the ground, and pulled it inside after him.  
Harry wasn't sure where Draco was headed, but was determined to follow him. They had things to talk about, after all.  
The window, Harry found out minutes later, lead into an obscure corridor leading down to the dungeons. He remembered seeing it on the Marauders Map, but had never been down in himself.  
Once in the corridor, Harry used a point me spell to locate Draco, and was soon following his wand as it lead him though the poorly lit maze of damp stone walls and dark, unused classrooms.  
Harry was completely lost until they came to a place he certainly recognised: the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Draco was standing outside, Pansy standing beside him, talking loudly about something that Draco obviously had no interest in - the blonde stood rigid, his arms across his chest, one foot tapping impatiently and his eyes looking everywhere but at the girl in front of him. His hand was clutched so tightly around the handle of his broom his knuckles were going white.  
At one point, Draco's bored gaze wandered over the the wall Harry was hidden behind, and the brunette quickly ducked behind it, casting upon himself a disillusionment charm professor Flitwick had taught them their first week back.  
Once he was satisfied he was invisible, Harry cast a Muffilato charm upon himself to muffle his footsteps and moved back into the corridor, noting Pansy was still talking to a clearly uninterested Draco.  
Finally, it seemed Draco had gotten tired of Pansy's dramatic ramblings, and cut her off mid-sentence.  
"Pansy, stop. Look, can you please tell me at dinner. I have a headache, and I just want to go and lie down," Draco pleaded. Harry was fairly certain Draco had no headache, and it was just an excuse to get away from the incessant whining of the drama queen he was currently talking to, but Pansy didn't seem to mind.  
"Sure Draco, I'll go tell Daph and Tori instead," she said, running off.  
Draco sighed, running his hands through his hair, making it stick up at cute angles.  
"Merlin help Daphne and Astoria," he mumbled, before and turning to the entrance and mumbling the password far to low for Harry to hear.  
When the door appeared and opened, Harry hurried after Draco, not stopping to take in the familiar surroundings. The blonde went up the staircase to the left, down the corridor on the right, down a set of stairs that appeared out of nowhere, down a corridor to the left, up another flight of stairs and finally stopping at the very end of the left corridor.  
It seemed Salazar wanted his students rooms to be a maze just like his dungeons.  
Draco opened the door, stepping into a small, circular room with a single bed, and an en suite bathroom. It seemed more like a teachers room then a students, and Harry's curiosity convinced him to follow Draco into his room.  
The blonde moved over to his double bed, which was on a small raised platform on the far side of the room. A small dressing table was on the left, and a closet to his right. Draco made his way to the closet, and opened the left door, in which, at shoulder height, was a horizontal stand for his precious Nimbus 2001.  
Draco placed his broom in the stand and closed the door, the proceeded to rip of his jumper and tie, and unbuttoning his shirt until it half of his perfectly sculpted chest was visible. He the pushed the arms of his shirt up to his elbows, revealing the toned muscles in his arms.  
Harry sucked in a surprised breath and gulped loudly. He was, in that moment, extremely grateful for the spell concealing any noise he made. God, Draco looked amazing like this; his hair was still wildly tussled in an adorable but dead sexy way, the muscles is his arms flexed when he moved, and his chest screamed for attention with every breath Draco took. Harry almost swallowed his tongue when Draco flopped down onto the bed, the causal pose looking anything but to Harry.  
Licking his dry lips, Harry realised he was just standing at the door to Draco's room. He steeled his nerves before removing first the Muffliato charm, then the Disillusionment charm.  
Harry's whispered counter-spell alerted Draco to Harry's presence, and with lightning-quick reflexes, Draco pulled his wand from the holster on his waist and had his wand between Harry's eyes by the time he revealed himself.  
The shock of seeing Harry in his room caused Draco to drop his wand slightly, leaving Harry room to cast a non-verbal Protego. Slowly, Harry turned his back on the blonde, resting his broom against the wall near the door. A flick of his wand had it hovering an inch off the ground, so as not to damage it.  
"Please don't attack me Draco. I just want to talk." Harry said as he turned to face his childhood enemy. Putting his wand in the pocket of his robe, Harry held his hands up in a manner that suggested defeat. Draco looked at him for a second, unsure how to react.  
"Then take down the shield."  
"Only if your promise not to curse me."  
Draco laughed, an actual, genuine laugh. He then turned and walked over to the bed, sitting down and patting the spot next to it in a very un-Draco-like way.  
"I thought we were past the petty cursing?" He asked with a mocking smile. As suddenly as his mood had shifted before, it changed again, this time to serious. "I won't curse you Harry. I promise. As long as you promise not to curse me."  
"I promise I won't." Harry replied, and finally dropped his Protego - wandlessly.  
Draco was startled, but took it all in stride as Harry moved to sit on the bed next to him. There was a foot of space between the two, which the two boys had different views on.  
For Draco, it wasn't close enough; he wanted Harry close to him while he had the chance. For Harry, however, the space was too small for his liking, Draco already beginning to make the brunette question things about himself, and the look in the blondes eyes was slightly unnerving.  
"I'll forget for now you just did wandless magic, and instead ask you this: what, in Merlin's name, were you thinking, following me?" Draco's voice held no malice, simply curiosity, and Harry answered his question honestly.  
"Because, like I said, I wanted to talk to you. I have some things I want to ask you."  
"Like what?" Draco asked without any hint of hesitation. It seemed that, for now, Draco was happy to play along.  
"Like, how long have you liked me for? And why do like me?" The last question came out disbelieving, as if Harry couldn't understand why Draco liked him. And, if Harry was being honest with himself, he couldn't.  
Ginny's 'love' for him, Harry was sure, stemmed from her childhood obsession. His fame was what drew her to him in the first place, and that was one thing Harry always hated about their relationship: Ginny never took time to see past the fame and actually get to know Harry in the way he wished she would.  
"I realised I liked you in fourth year, after the Tri-Wizard tournament. As for how… I'm not sure." Draco looked down at the ground, and continued. "It could be the way you pursue everything you want with that reckless, yet somehow admirable, Gryffindor courage. Or your obvious loyalty to those important in your life. Maybe your dedication to doing what you feel is right. The way you put others needs before your own. But none of that compares to how beautiful you are Harry." The last sentence was barely a whisper, but in the silence of Draco's room, Harry heard it.  
Disbelieving, and stunned into silence, Harry sat there, processing all of what Draco had just said. Then, after a few minutes; "You think I'm beautiful?"  
Draco lifted his eyes off the ground to meet Harry's. His bright emerald eyes were deep pools of emotion, showing Draco everything Harry was feeling: stunned, confused, flattered, unsure, and curious.  
"I don't think you're beautiful Harry, I know you're beautiful. Even if you can't see it." Harry blushed the deepest shade of scarlet, and averted his eyes to rest on his shoes.  
"How can you think that?" Harry asked quietly. Draco grasped Harry's chin gently, and moved so the brunette was looking him in the eye.  
"Because you are Harry!" Draco's voice was filled was so much emotion it was hard not to believe him.  
"You are too, you know," he said, making Draco blush as well.  
"I'm really not."  
"Let's just agree to believe each other, ok?" Harry compromised with a smile. Draco nodded, but doubts still filled his mind. Was Harry lying?  
Little Draco know, Harry was having the same doubts, his insecurities not allowing him to believe that anyone could see him as beautiful. All he saw in himself was a scrawny kid with messy hair and glasses. Nothing special at all.  
"Ok. Only if you let me take you to lunch next Hogsmead weekend."  
Harry's eyes widened as he turned to Draco, and, realising the blonde was serious, let out a manic laugh.  
"Are you actually serious Draco?"  
"Of course I am Harry," Draco replied, sounding a tad annoyed.  
"Do you have any idea how much shit the both of us will get? Your reputation will be ruined, and my friends will probably never speak to me again!" Harry exclaimed.  
"So, you don't want to?" Draco asked, his voice laced with hurt.  
"You don't care about your reputation?" Harry asked, surprised the blonde hadn't even mentioned it.  
"Not when I could have you." He replied without hesitation.  
Harry blushed again, and, throwing all caution into the wind, smiled at Draco.  
"So, where are you taking me?" Draco, who was looking straight into Harry's eyes, cracked a smile. He failed to contain it, and the genuine happiness in his eyes made Harry realise he had never seen Draco truly smile.  
"You'll really go to Hogsmead with me?" Draco asked, his voice filled with more hope then Harry had ever heard.  
"Sure." Harry smile back. Seeing the usually downcast blonde so happy, Harry couldn't bear to deny him one lunch. Besides, Harry couldn't lie to himself. He was intrigued. He found himself wanting to spend more time with Draco, despite all the things the blonde was making him question about himself.  
Draco's smiled widened even more, and, out of impulse, his hand reached over, long, pale, slender fingers wrapping themselves around Harry's wrist.  
Harry warring emotions made him freeze, not sure what to think of Draco's actions.  
The smile slipped from the blondes face, and he yanked his hand back as quickly, turning his back to Harry.  
"Forget about it. Just leave." He spat out, his mood changing abruptly once again.  
"Draco.." Harry began, but the blonde jumped up and headed to the window. He stood there, looking out at the grounds below, back rigid, knuckles balled into fight fists at his side. Harry sighed, a mixture of relief, disappointment and regret. "I'm sorry Draco. I'm just not sure what to feel right now."  
A few whispered spells, the creak of his bedroom door, and Harry was gone.  
Draco turned, pushing his back against the cold stone wall next to the window, and sank to the ground.  
From outside Draco's door, Harry heard the blonde berate himself for ever letting Harry know his feelings, and felt a pang of guilt settle in his chest.  
Clearing his head, Harry tried to remember his way back to the Slytherin common room, and realised, with a jolt of panic, that he couldn't. The only easy way Harry could see out of this was to fly out of Draco's window.  
There mere thought of going back into Draco's room and asking him for a way out made Harry, even with all of his Gryffindor courage, nervous, and more then a little afraid.  
Harry pressed his back to Draco's bedroom door, and let his head hit the polished wood.  
Looking up and down both sides of the corridor, Harry noticed that there was only half a dozen rooms along a straight hall, with a set of steps to the left, almost completely hidden.  
Deciding to take a risk, Harry headed towards the spiralling staircase, and made his way noiselessly up the stone steps, eventually reaching a small, oak door. Trying the handle, Harry was disappointed to find it locked.  
Pressing his ear to the door, he listened, and hearing nothing, tapped the lock, which sprang open silently.  
Thanking Hermione for helping him learn non-verbal spells over the holidays, Harry pulled open the doors just enough to peek through it.  
As Harry's eyes roamed the empty, hidden, circular turret, he pulled the door open fully, and stepped out. The turret seemed to be half the height of the castle. It was tucked away between two of the Slytherin towers, and Harry, having not flown close to this side of the castle, hasn't even known of it's existence.  
Three quarters of the small room was the usual stone, with chairs jutting out from the walls, and a long bench curving around to fit them. The other quarter of the room was rest was floor to ceiling windows, long rectangles of glass, framed by polished oak. In a show of muggle design, each window had a set of hinges and the middle two had a handle, allowing them to be slid open to either side. Harry closed the door behind him, and moved towards the window, thanking his luck.  
Opening them fully, the crisp October air hit him in the face, the wind having picked up while he was in Draco's room. Harry mounted his broom, and hovered just outside the windows, looking back into the turret, and then around him, memorising it's location. Harry leaned over to close the windows behind him, then took off, twisting and turning between the Hogwarts towers, trying to find a release for the emotions currently clouding his mind and senses. By the time Harry got to the window outside his dorm room, it had been over an hour and his thoughts were still as jumbled as ever.  
In one swift, practiced move, Harry pulled up next to his window, slid on his broom onto the window sill, and pulled himself and his broom inside.  
With a flick of his wand, the Firebolt flew over to the open trunk at the end of his bed, and then lid closed itself once the broom was safely inside. Harry collapsed onto his bed, drawing the curtains shut around him.  
It was barely 5pm, but Harry was exhausted, both mentally and physically.  
He knew he'd have to face Draco in the Great Hall for tea, if he decided to come down, or if not, then classes the next day. He couldn't avoid the blonde forever.  
After a time thinking about it, Harry realised he didn't want to.  
Sitting up, he threw back the curtains, and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from his draw. Summoning his ink pot, which was still in his bag tossed lazily on the floor, Harry scratched out a letter to Draco.

_'Im still not sure what to think about what happened today, and I'm sorry for hurting you. Let me make it up to you. Next Hogsmead weekend, my treat. We can go anywhere you want.'_

Harry left the letter unsigned - Draco would know who it was from.  
Pocketing the letter, Harry made his was down to the common room, where Ron and Hermione where curled up in front of the fire. Apparently Ron had convinced her to take a break from studying.  
"Harry, mate. Where have you been?" Ron called out as Harry stepped off the staircase. Harry looked over, as Hermione sat up, interested.  
"Flying. I told you I was headed to the pitch." Harry replied, making his way to the portrait hole.  
"Harry, that was over four hours ago!" Hermione called out, but Harry didn't answer her. He was already out the portrait hole and headed down to the Great Hall. Dinner was still half an hour away, but Harry didn't want to deal with his friends questions.  
In all honesty, he didn't know if he could answer. His thoughts were a mess. All he could think about was if he was doing the right thing by agreeing to go to Hogsmead with Draco, what his friends would think, and if being close to him again would make him everything he was feeling in the Slytherin's bedroom.  
Making his way to the almost empty Gryffindor table, Harry say down at his usual spot, and as soon as he say down his eyes immediately strayed over to the Slytherin table. To his surprise, Draco was sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table, head down on folded arms. It looked like he was shaking.  
A wave of guilt rushed over Harry, and he pulled the note out of his pocket. Folding the note up, he levitated it, and, looking around to make sure no one was watching, sent it flying over to Draco, who looked up when it hit the table in front of him. Harry watched as he picked up the note, anticipation curling in his stomach as Draco's eyes flicked over the short letter. Once he was done, he looked up, straight at Harry. A small smile was playing at the corner of his lips, but the brunette could tell he was trying to suppress it.  
Draco reached down beside him, and pulled his bag up off the floor, reached inside, and pulled out a quill. an ink pot, and a fresh piece of parchment.  
Quickly scrawling a letter back, he folded it up and sent it flying towards Harry, without even looking up. He put everything back in his back, including Harry's note to him.  
Harry caught Draco's letter as it dropped into the Gryffindor table, and opened it. His face fell as his eyes scanned the words written in Draco's perfect handwriting.

_'I don't think that's a good idea. _  
_Figure out what you want. And don't come to me again until you do.'_

When Harry looked up, Draco was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Reading Harry's letter, Draco's heart skipped a beat, but at the same time, he was quite confused. Draco was sure Harry had been upset when he has grabbed his hand, he had frozen, and looked shocked. And the blonde was sure he wasn't gay.  
Throwing everything back into his bag, Draco rushed from the Great Hall, in no state to be facing Harry. All the while he was hurrying up to the privacy of his room, his mind was replaying the words in Harry's letter back to him, and their conversations earlier that day, in both his bedroom and on the Quidditch pitch. A continuous loop of memories that bombarded Draco with too many confusing, emotion-invoking thoughts.  
And all of them contained Harry.  
The mixed signals he was getting from the intriguing Gryffindor confused his already scrambled thoughts even more.  
Draco had been really tempted to agree to Harry's offer. He wanted so badly to go, to see where it took them. But, as much as he hated admitting it to himself, Draco was scared.  
Scared of what might happen. Of how Harry would react. And, most of all, of being rejected.  
If there was one thing Draco was sure of, it was that, with the massive downward spiral his life had taken in the last few years, he couldn't take Harry rejecting him. He would rather live out the rest of his miserable life thinking that Harry hated him. Only now, because he'd let those bloody big green eyes affect him, he couldn't. Now all Draco could think about was the many "what ifs", and, if the blonde was being honest to himself, it was driving him crazy.  
Draco's mind was working overtime, and he could feel a headache approaching.  
Finally reaching the sanctity of his bedroom, Draco flopped down gracelessly onto his neatly made bed, letting out a sigh.  
His spotless room was a big contrast to the major mess his life had become. Draco had become slightly OCD in the last few years. Ever since he became a Death Eater and chosen to kill Dumbledore, his life had gone drastically downhill. Draco had always thought he'd had a privileged life, and, in many ways, he had. The Malfoy's had always been financially well-off, and, being an only child, Draco was almost never denied any material item that he could ever want or need. The Malfoy name itself also held its own power - or at least it did, until Voldemort's downfall.  
It wasn't the lack of material possession or power, however, that had left Draco feeling so empty and discontent all these years. It was the lack of love and support from his parents, and the rest of his family.  
While both families had always been well-off, neither the Malfoy's nor the Blacks were known for being very loving and caring people. Lucius Malfoy was far from the paternal type, berating and punishing Draco far more often than giving him praise. Narcissa, while caring for Draco more than his father, didn't have motherly bone in her body. He was basically raised by the house elves. The most motherly and fatherly concern his parents had ever shown was in front of Voldemort, trying to persuade Draco to join them.  
It was the things that had been missing all his life that he yearned for, from both his parents, and now Harry; comfort, safety, /love/.  
The last thought hit Draco hard.  
Did he love Harry? The blonde was sure he liked him, but love?  
Draco groaned, burying his head in his hands, wishing he could shut out his thoughts. He needed something, anything, to make them stop.  
An idea popped into his head, and he scrambled off the bed and headed to his cupboard, pulling out the small trunk that lay hidden at the bottom. Draco unlocked the intricately carved box and pulled the lid open, immediately spotting what he wanted. Laying there, amongst some of his most treasured possessions, was a full bottle of Firewhisky he had nicked from his father over the summer. While old enough to buy his own, and surprisingly still wealthy enough, it was more convenient to just take the seemingly endless bottles of alcohol that the Malfoy's owned.  
Grabbing the bottle out, Draco shut the lid and re-locked the trunk before loving over to this bed. Searching around in the drawers beside his bed, he found an old, broken quill, which he promptly transfigured into a small shot glass.  
Pouring himself a shot, he tossed it back, not even grimacing at the taste. Draco had consumed his fair share of alcohol over the summer, trying to drown out the memories of the war and the years before. It never worked - at least not for more than a few hours. But the blonde kept drinking, suffering though hangovers (which even with a Pepper Up potion - the only thing the Malfoy's had that could help a hangover - were still bad) just for those few hours where he didn't have to think about every time in his life where he'd screwed up.  
Taking shot after shot, Draco had downed half the bottle in under twenty minutes, and was feeling lightheaded.  
Sitting the shot glass on the bedside table with the now half-empty bottle, Draco laid back on his bed, arms folded behind his head, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness, and the way the alcohol had scrambled his brain, not allowing a full, coherent thought to pass though his head.  
Knowing full well he had classes the next morning, Draco drowned out the sensible part of his brain telling him to have some water, sober up a bit, and go to bed, and poured himself another shot.  
Soon, the empty Firewhisky bottle lay on the floor, and Draco was left sitting on the end of his bed, looking blankly into the shot glass, which contained the last of the amber liquid.  
The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the window, making the Firewhisky in Draco's glass light up, almost glow. He stared down into it, awed.  
"So pretty." He murmured. Swirling it around a few times, he watched the light being refracted from every angle, both off the Firewhisky and the shot glass itself.  
Clouds rolled over the sun, blocking what little light was left for the evening. The sunlight faded, making the Firewhisky look normal again, and Draco snapped out his trance. Looking quizzically at his glass, he shook his head and downed the shot.  
Standing up, he walked over to the window, sitting the shot glass on the bedside table. Draco rested his arms against the window sill, laid out so from his wrist to his elbow were touching the polished wood. His hands were curled loosely, the side of his thumbs and his fingernails were the only part of the blondes long pale hands touching the window sill.  
A loud sigh left his lips as he stared into the sunset, which was almost completely gone. Draco stood there, staring at the reflections of the surrounding grounds in the glassy water of the Black Lake until the sun set.  
It wasn't until darkness had completely enveloped everything in his sight that Draco shut the window and flopped gracelessly down onto his bed. Not even caring he was still in his school clothes or laying on top of the covers, Draco fell into a deep sleep, the Firewhisky making his dreams so fuzzy he couldn't remember a single one.

* -o- * -o- *

Reading over Draco's letter once more, Harry looked up again, and his eyes fell on Draco's empty seat.  
The Great Hall was packed, and people were happily chatting away about classes, Quiddich, who they fancied, detention, and the professors. Harry caught snippets of conversations from the Gryffindor's around him, and even some from a few loud Ravenclaw's on the table behind him.  
Harry ignored all of them, even the people in his year trying to make conversation with him, in favour of playing with his food and stewing in his own thoughts.  
It wasn't until Hermione, sick of Harry ignoring her, smacked him up the back of the head did he pay attention.  
"Merlin Hermione! Was that really necessary?" Harry growled, rubbing the back of his head. He quickly shoved Draco's letter in his pocket, and Hermione noticed.  
"Well if you payed less attention to that letter and more to your friends then no, it wouldn't be. But as of right now, you've been staring at that letter all of dinner and not listened to a single word I've been trying to tell you!"  
Ron, who was sitting on the other side of Hermione, looked around her at Harry.  
"Who is that from anyway mate? A girl you like?" Harry blushed, and Ron sent him a knowing grin. "I knew it! Why else would you read it over and over all of dinner. You haven't even touched your food."  
Noticing he was right, Harry began to eat his dinner, ignoring the rest of the questions about who this mystery girl was.  
Finishing quickly, he hurried out of the Great Hall, pretending he didn't her Hermione calling after him.  
He felt a familiar stare from the teachers table boring into his back, but he refused to look back, knowing exactly what the professor wanted. Harry was sure he would get a visit from the older man later that night, or he would see him in class the next day.  
Half way to the Gryffindor common room a thought struck him, one that he wished hadn't of.  
Did he like Draco?  
He was intrigued by the blonde, sure. And found himself wanting to spend more time with him, despite the little voice in his head telling him it was a bad idea.  
Shaking off the though, Harry suddenly changed directions, heading towards the kitchen. Harry had barely eaten any of his dinner, and only just realised how hungry he was.  
Coming to a stop by a painting of fruit, he ticked the pear, a handle appearing. Twisting it, he ducked quickly into the kitchens, pulling the door shut behind him.  
Stepping around the dozens of house elves, he made his way to the far corner, where a small table and four chairs was set up. Sitting on one of the chairs, he dropped his bag at his feet, resting his hands on the cracked wood.  
Looking down, he traced a finger over the words carved into the middle of the table.  
The two sets of engravings, one lot much older then the other, made Harry both want to smile and cry.

_'The Marauders - Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs'_

_'Gred & Forge'_

Tears pricked at his eyes as he remember Fred's funeral, and he let his head fall, hitting his arms. Harry's shoulders began to shake slightly, but any noise he may have made was muffled by his arm.  
His quiet sobs were interrupted a few minutes later by a soft, squeaky voice and a light tugging at his robes.  
"Mister Potter? Can Winky get Mister Potter anything?" The house elf asked politely.  
Harry looked up, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes. Smiling down at the tiny house elf, he was reminded of Dobby, and another jab of pain and sorrow hit his heart. Winky was one of Dobby's friends too, Harry remembered, but she looked better then she had before. Maybe being here at Hogwarts and having something to do gave her a purpose again.  
"Just something small to eat please Winky. I didn't have much at dinner. And something to drink?" Harry said with a weak smile.  
"Of course Mister Potter!" Winky said happily, rushing off to get his food. She was back only minutes later, and by that time Harry had composed himself, and taken out his Transfiguration homework, needing something to take his mind off both Draco and the deaths of the war.  
Sitting a plate and a goblet in front of him, Winky gave a quick bow and hurried away before Harry could say anything else. Soon enough though, the smell of the half a dozen fresh baked pumpkin pasties siting in front of him made his stomach growl, and he dug in.  
That's how Harry spent the next two hours; a pumpkin pastie in his left hand and a quill in his right, doing first his Transfiguration homework, then Charms, while the elves worked happily around him. As soon as his plate or goblet of butterbeer was empty, Winky would rush over and ask if Harry wanted any more, so he was never hungry or thirsty.  
After packing his Charms work in his bag, Harry realised he had been gone for hours, and Ron and Hermione were probably wondering where he was.  
Harry gathered his stuff, and hurried back to Gryffindor tower not seeing a single person on the way. The common room was about half full with students, doing homework or playing chess or exploding snap or reading a book.  
Hermione and Neville were at a table nearest the fire, doing their homework, each occasionally asking a question. Ron was playing wizards chess with Seamus - judging by the Irish boys profanities, Ron was winning. Dean and Ginny were both sprawled out on one of the rugs near Hermione's feet, closer to the fire, talking. The book Ginny had obviously been reading was closed beside her, forgotten.  
None of them paid any attention to Harry as he made his way silently through the common room, and up the stairs to his dorm.  
Harry flopped gracelessly down onto his bed, pulling the scarlet curtains around him as he thought of everything that had happened since the war ended. Going over everyone he knew and marvelling at how things had turned out.  
Harry now lived at Black Manor with Sirius, Remus and Teddy. Sirius had been cleared of all crimes after the war when the truth about what happened between him and Peter Pettigrew came out, and had filled the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher position at Hogwarts, much to the dismay of many people. Sirius, however, was overjoyed, and once people started attending his classes, they got over the prejudice they once held against him. This was due to the fact his classes were more fun then even Lupin's had been, and all the students soon began to enjoy them.  
After losing Tonks during the war, Remus had become withdrawn and racked with depression, but Harry and Sirius had helped him pull out of it, making him focus on the fact he had a son to take care of. He stayed at home most days, looking after Teddy. Both Harry and Sirius had been made Teddy's godfathers, and they both took that responsibility more seriously then most.  
Minerva McGonagall was made Headmistress of Hogwarts, despite her arguments that she wasn't fit for the job. Though she preferred to teach Transfiguration, which she continued to do, she finally accepted the Headmasters position, knowing someone had to take over if the school was to recover to even half it's former glory. It was her that had hired Sirius. McGonagall had originally asked Remus if he wanted his old position as DADA professor back, but he kindly declined, saying he couldn't possibly raise Teddy and teach at the same time. Sirius, who was present at the time of the visit, asked if he could take the position instead, as he was unemployed and, even though he had been cleared, no one would trust him enough to give him a chance. Minerva had given him a genuine, heartwarming smile and promptly hired him, thinking the school could use some of the friendly chaos the Marauders specialised in. Sirius also took some of McGonagall's Transfiguration classes when her duties as Headmaster left her unable to teach, the strict witch always jokingly threatening to make his animagus form permanent if he disrupted her class and made them unruly and hyper for when she returned.  
Professor Slughorn had come back upon McGonagall's request, and now taught Potions again. After all the death the war caused, especially that of Severus Snape, McGonagall was weary to let any new people into the school to teach, trusting only those that she knew. Slughorn had agreed to stay, but only until she had found him a suitable replacement.  
Professor Kettleburn flat out refused to come back and teach, so Hagrid returned to his position as Care of Magical Creatures teacher, as well as doing his ground keeping duties. He was happy to be teaching again, but the war had left him with a lingering sadness, as it had everyone. Hagrid still mourned the loss of his half-brother, Grawp, but was improving daily.  
Professor Flitwick still taught Charms, and had now set up a proper duel club - one much more effective then the one Lockhart had attempted to set up - for fifth years and up. Often enlisting he help of Sirius and Minerva, Flitwick taught them proper duelling techniques, handy spells and counter curses. During these classes he also showed the students the effects of certain curses that could be used in battle, and also of the spells that they should never use. Any student of age could also ask to be taught methods of escaping magically sealed rooms, the use/escape of magical bonds, and how to conjure and control wandless magic.  
Although McGonagall had tried hard to get Hogwarts back to how it was before, she knew that the castle would never be fully returned to it's former glory. There was always the air of death and destruction that lingered in ever crack and crevice that nothing could get rid of. McGonagall, however, never gave up.  
Harry and Ginny had broken up just before the school year started again. Fred's death had taken it's toll her, Ron, and the whole Weasley family. Harry had been hit hard as well, the Weasley's being the only people besides Sirius he had ever thought of as family. Harry still visited the Burrow and the rest of the Weasley's as regularly as he could, often bringing Remus, Sirius and Teddy with him.  
Ron and Hermione had, surprisingly, managed to stay together. Hermione had moved into the Burrow, not yet ready to face her parents again. Even now, almost a year after the war had ended, she was still torn between needing her parents back, and not wanting to drag them into her life, and into danger again.  
George and Angelina Johnson had turned to each other for comfort after Fred's death, and had somehow ended up together. George felt a bit guilty at first, but they both soon realised Fred would have wanted them to be happy.  
Percy proposed to Penelope Clearwater mere months after the war had ended, the death of his brother making him realise a lot of things; one of those being how much he loved her, and that he would do anything to be able to spend the rest of his life with her. Percy quit his job at the Ministry, and they had started up a pet shop in Diagon Alley, right next door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Students were now allowed to bring any familiar of their choice to Hogwarts, so their business soon boomed as the students began to return to school.  
Bill and Fleur stayed in Shell Cottage, and Fleur had announced her pregnancy just before the trio went back to school.  
Neville and Luna got together soon after the war. Neville wanted to return to school, but Luna wanted to travel. They had agreed to go their separate ways, both willing to try a long distance relationship so as to not hold the other back, when, a week before she was due to leave on her trip, Luna found out she was pregnant with twins. She chose to stay home and write for the Quibbler and wait for her twins arrival while Neville went back to school. Neville was now training to be the new Herbology teacher in between talking his classes. Professor Sprout was retiring as soon as Neville finished his last year and felt confident enough to take over her position. When she did, Professor Septima Vector, the Arithmacy teacher, was to take over her position as Hufflepuff's Head of House. Professor Vector was uncertain at first about teaching again, but McGonagall convinced her to come back, and eventually accept the Head of House position when Professor Sprout retired.  
Harry let out a sigh, letting his eyes close and this thoughts wander. A lot of people had pulled themselves together after the war and done well for themselves, despite losing loved ones. Others hadn't been so lucky, and there had been a lot of regretful suicides over the year since the war had passed, witches and wizards either distraught with the loss of losing a loved one, paranoid because of the war, or simply couldn't take living in a world where nothing was certain anymore.  
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Harry groaned and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow. He didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment.  
The door to the dorm room opened, closed, and then locked. The sound of the lock clicking shut out Harry on guard, and he pulled his wand out of his pocket, ready. He felt the mans magical aura just as Sirius poked his head through Harry's curtains. Harry let out a sigh of relief, and lowered his wand. Sirius looked proud, not even caring that just moments before had a wand pointed between his eyes.  
"Good to see you're keeping your guard up Harry," Sirius commented with a wolffish grin, pulling his whole body through the curtains and plonking himself down on Harry's bed.  
"After what I've been through Sirius, it never comes down." Harry sighed, sitting back down and making himself comfortable again.  
"I know Harry." Sirius sighed. He got himself comfortable as well, and the two fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Sirius spoke again. "I know who that letter was from Harry. You really should learn to look over at the teachers table as well," Sirius smirked.  
Harry went a little pale, then blushed and put his head down. Sirius put a hand under his chin and forced Harry to look at him, his green eyes betraying every emotion he was feeling.  
"Do you like him Harry?" Sirius asked, all joking gone from his tone.  
"I.. I don't know." Harry replied honestly. "I think.. I think I do. But it's different, you know? Like.. I didn't feel like this way about Cho, or when I was with Ginny. It's different." Harry's voice slowly got softer as he spoke, and by the time he finished it was barely a whisper.  
"I know. I think he really likes you. I saw the way he looks at you." Sirius said, and the seriousness in his voice made Harry's chest tighten in a weird way. "I never would have thought Draco Malfoy of all people would fall for a Gryffindor. And another boy." Sirius shook his head, a somewhat amused smile playing on his lips.  
"What about me?"  
"Of course I'm not surprised he fell for you!" Sirius said, giving Harry a strange look.  
"I am." Harry mumbled, too low for a normal person to hear. But Sirius' canine hearing allowed him to pick it up, and he cocked his head to the side, much like he would in his animagus form.  
"Why?" Sirius asked.  
"I-"  
Footsteps coming loudly up the staircase to the dorm cut off Harry's reply, and he pulled out his wand and pointed it through his curtains at the door. The last thing Harry needed was rumours going around about why he was locked in his room with a professor.  
"Aloharmoa!" He whispered. Throwing the curtains back so both him and Sirius were in full view of anyone entering the room.  
The door unlocked just as Ron turned the handle, but he wasn't paying attention to anything in front of him, instead was looking over his shoulder at Seamus, the two discussing their chess game.  
Seamus saw Sirius first, and the man was giving Harry a quizzical look.  
"P-professor Black?!" He spluttered. "What are you doing up here?"  
"Seamus, isn't it?" Sirius said, switching to professor mode as he stood up and over Seamus, who gulped.  
"Yes s-sir."  
"What right do you have to question a professor?" He asked lowly, a creepy canine-like smile on his face.  
Seamus looked like he was ready to shit himself, and Ron, who had seen Sirius' crazed side, was barely containing his laughter. Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather and best friend.  
"Sirius, leave him alone." Harry said, coming to the Irish boys rescue. Seamus looked shocked Harry had just called a teacher by his first name.  
Sirius turned to Harry, that same twisted smile on his face, only Harry wasn't scared. He laughed. His first genuine laugh that day. Seamus looked at him like he was about to be killed.  
"You ruin my fun." Sirius actually pouted like a child, and Ron's laughter finally burst free, seeing the look on Sirius' face.  
Neville, who had stayed quiet the entire time, was the only one besides Harry and Ron who knew that Sirius was in face Harry's godfather. He had noticed right away what was going on - the two were trying to have a private chat. Sirius was really the only father figure Harry had.  
Seamus still looked confused, but less scared now that the two boys were laughing and Sirius was acting like a child - a very disturbed child, but a child none the less.  
"I was just trying to have a chat with Harry here. It that a problem, Finnigan?" Sirius asked, suddenly turning back to Seamus, all trace of laugher carefully concealed.  
Seamus' eyes widened, and he managed to splutter out a reply. "N-no sir, of c-course not!"  
"Very good! See you all in class tomorrow morning boys!" Sirius said, suddenly cheerful. He turned to wink at Harry, before walking out the door, robes billowing behind him, almost like Snape's used to.  
Ron was now rolling on the floor with tears in his eyes, and Neville was still quiet, but he was obviously not doing anything to conceal his smile at Sirius antics. He didn't know him like the trio did, but after Neville had opened up to Harry about his parents, Harry had opened up to him about Sirius and Lupin, and he knew almost everything.  
Seamus and Dean, who was apparently still downstairs, were the only two who didn't know about Harry and Sirius' relationship.  
"What the bloody hell was that?" Seamus practically yelled once Sirius was out of earshot. Well, normal human earshot. The professor was currently standing at the bottom of the stairs listening to every word, sharing an amused smile with Hermione, who had heard the whole Seamus/Sirius dilemma from the almost empty common room.  
Neville spoke for the first time since entering the dorm room, and he spoke directly to Harry.  
"Were you guys finished talking, or did we interrupt?"  
Harry gave Neville a small smile.  
"Not quite. But, to be honest, I'm grateful for the interruption. We'll finish talking tomorrow anyway. No big deal."  
Neville smiled and gave him a knowing nod before walking over to his own bed and disappearing behind his curtains. Ron looked over at Harry, giving him a meaningful look, before looking at Seamus, then back at Harry.  
The brunette knew exactly what his best friend was implying. Seamus, however, was clueless, and getting angry about being left out of the loop.  
"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Seamus demanded, sitting on his closed trunk at the end of his bed, looking first at Harry, then at Ron.  
"Siri- Professor Black is my godfather." Harry said finally. He wasn't sure whether to tell the Irish boy or not; he had a habit of jumping to conclusions. And the very one Harry hoped he wouldn't jump to, was he first one he thought of.  
"Ahh, so that's how he got a job here! Bet you swung it so he could, didn't ya Harry?" Seamus accused.  
Ron saw anger flash in Harry's green eyes, and reached over, grabbing his wand arm. Harry's right hand was clutched tight around his wand, and Ron could tell he was about to hex Seamus.  
"Don't you dare imply that I was the only reason Sirius got his job here Seamus," Harry spat. "If you must know, Sirius asked McGonagall for this job. Even with his record gone, no one else trusted him enough to give him a job. But she did. You have a problem with Sirius teaching? Go and see McGonagall!"  
By now Harry was fuming with anger. He yanked his arm out of Ron's grip and stormed downstairs, through the common room and out the portrait hole. The only things he had on him were his wand, and the Marauders Map, tucked safely into his pocket.  
Harry pulled into a small alcove just outside Gryffindor Tower, and pulled out the Map, quickly locating Sirius.  
It was his night off rounds, so the man was in his room, pacing. Harry made his way to the corridor which held the Gryffindor teachers rooms, and knocked on his godfathers door. Sirius opened it, wearing his nightclothes, his hair tussled.  
"Harry? What's wrong?" Sirius asked, noting his livid expression. Moving aside, he let Harry come into his room.  
"Seamus." Harry spat, moving to sit on a couch by the fire.  
"What about Seamus?" Sirius asked, moving to sit on the chair opposite him. Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer any time soon, Sirius sat back and got comfortable, letting Harry settle down.  
Harry was still quite angry, and decided to calm himself down before answering by looking around. He had never been into Sirius' quarters before, and he noticed it was quite big.  
The door opened up into a small living room, which had one long couch and two single arm chairs arranged around a small coffee table near a roaring fire. A small kitchenette was too the left, with a plain wooden door a few feet away. On the other side, Harry could see into Sirius' bedroom thorough the open door, and beside it was another closed door.  
'One of those has to be a bathroom,' Harry though absently.  
"Harry?" Sirius asked lightly.  
Harry felt a wave of exhaustion roll over him, and his shoulders slumped. Sirius must have seen it, because he stood up and moved over to Harry, helping him up.  
"Come on, into bed. You can stay here tonight and tell me about it in the morning." Sirius led Harry to the door beside his bedroom. It opened up into a smaller room, with a single bed, bedside table, and tiny closet. Harry turned to look at Sirius as he moved over to the bed.  
"I figured you might want to get away from Gryffindor tower sometimes. God knows I used to. I asked Minerva to put a room in here for you in case you ever needed it." Sirius answered Harry's questioning look.  
"Thank you." Harry have Sirius a grateful look, happy he wouldn't have to sleep on the couch like he was planning too.  
Sirius have Harry a small smile. "There's nightclothes and clean school robes in the cupboard. If you need anything else just ask. Night Harry." Sirius gave Harry a quick hug before stepping out, shutting the door behind him.  
Harry quickly got changed, and lay down in his bed. The room was deathly quiet, something that Harry wasn't used to, and it made him slightly uneasy.  
To try and take his mind off it, Harry pulled the Marauders Map out of his pocket, seeing where everyone was.  
Ron, Neville and Seamus were in the dorm room. Ginny and Dean were still in the common room. Hermione had gone up to her room for the night. Madam Pince was in the restricted section of the library. McGonagall was in the Headmasters office, sat at her desk. Filch was on the fourth floor, Mrs Norris walking loyally by his side. Draco was in his room, standing by what Harry remembered to be his window.  
Harry's gaze stopped and lingered on Draco's name. He watched Draco's name on the map, just standing at the window. It moved, after some time, to the middle of the room.  
'He's sitting on the end of his bed' Harry thought. Draco's name moved again, and this time was the last.  
As Draco finally passed out, Harry succumbed to sleep, the blondes name the last thing he saw before being enveloped in blackness.

* -o- * -o- *

A/N: Professor Vector's Hogwarts house was never mentioned (I don't think. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) and I couldn't think of another teacher that was in Hufflepuff, so I made her a Hufflepuff.  
Also, this chapter ended up going in a completely different direction to what I had originally planned, so I'm not that happy with it :/ I'm sorry there's not more Drarry action. It's more of a filler chapter to be honest. But I hope you liked it anyway! Please tell me what you think so far!  
~PP


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